


Nasty Fights

by orphan_account



Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: Gen, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:34:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23748412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: You and Lee have a particularly nasty fight that ends with you leaving to stay with Logan Delos, your best friend, for a while.
Relationships: Lee Sizemore/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Nasty Fights

From day one, there had always been a lot of pressure on your relationship with Lee, there had always been an immense cloud hanging over you at the end of every day, and for the most part, you could ignore it; sure, a lot of senior members of staff looked down on your relationship, but you easily brushed them off and forgot about it. What they thought didn't matter. What they thought was nothing more than… than the mere whispers of ghosts passing by, it didn't matter to either of you, and it never did; the dirty looks when they walked into his office to find you clung onto him like a koala bear, your legs around his waist and your head buried in the crook between his shoulder and his neck, they didn't get through. The disapproving whispers when you are lunch together and you had your leg swung over his and he had an arm across the back of your chair, they were nothing, they didn't even register most days. The grumbles of discontent when he pinned you against a wall and kissed you harshly, his leg between yours as he held you close, those grumbles didn't even reach you. 

But there was one thunderous growl that did. 

One thunderous growl that always made you and Lee jump apart whenever it threatened you with its presence. 

Doctor Ford. 

Robert was nice, he was always polite and always respectful towards you, after all, he had taken you under his wing and taught you everything you knew. He saw you as his heir, the one who would take over when he retired. 

And he did everything but approve of your relationship with Lee, and he always made it known. Ford never cared for Lee, he never thought he was good enough for you, and he never failed to voice that opinion, either, which put a lot of strain on your relationship with Lee. While you were happy together and loved each other fiercely and with a fire that only your love for each other could kindle and pour lighter fluid on, the pressure of knowing that Ford would never and did never approve was grating. It was hard, trying to ignore what Ford thought of it, but some days were worse than others. Some days, it was almost impossible to push aside the disapproval from Ford, whereas other days, it only drew you and Lee further into each other’s arms, exhilarated by the knowledge that it was so forbidden and looked down upon for you to be together. 

Today had started out just fine, most of the day spent out in the garden, soaking up the sun and relaxing, not really doing much other than moving to get cigarettes, to get something to drink or eat; it was hot, the sun grinning down upon you and Lee and rendering you both covered in a thin sheen of sweat, he even took his shirt off and tossed it over the washing line in an attempt to beat the heat. But then, one phone call from Robert changed it all; he had called up just to check on how you were doing, but when he saw Lee shirtless in the background, he couldn’t help but to comment on it. 

“Ford, don’t start,” you murmured, shoulders slumping with defeat as you looked into the camera. “Please?” 

“I’m sorry, (y/n), but I simply don’t think that Sizemore’s good enough,” he told you, able to see the way Lee gawked behind you, opening and closing his mouth to protest but deciding not to. “Couldn’t you have settled for someone who doesn’t have an ego bigger than London?” 

You shook your head, sighing and frowning. “Could you just let me love the person I chose?” 

After going back and forth for about half an hour, you made up an excuse to leave the phone call and hang up, eagerly accepting Lee’s distracting of a thousand and one kisses and a million and one whispered claims of love, a hundred and one soft touches. 

“What’ll he do if we decide to get fucking married?” Lee asked, kissing your collarbone. 

“Kill us both,” you shrugged, looking into his eyes with a certain honesty. “I mean, seriously, he’d probably get an axe.” 

Lee rolled his eyes, a fond smile on his lips. “We could always have a… private wedding, a secret one.” 

You frowned, shaking your head as you furrowed your brows. “Even if he doesn’t support our relationship, I’d still want Ford to be there, Lee.” 

Scoffing, he pushed himself away slightly, raising a brow and scowling ever so slightly. “Why? The old man does fuck all for either of us except bitch and moan about the fact that we’re fucking!” 

The last word struck a nerve with you and made you recoil slightly as you stared at him for a moment, a clear sheen of hurt evident over your features, casted upon them like a shadow. “Is that what we’re doing is it? Just fucking?” 

“No, I- fuck, no, we’re not just fucking,” he sighed, hanging his head and shaking it. “I meant… shit, fuck me…” 

You scoffed, licking your lips as you tried to mask the hurt that was making its way through your body. “Is that all I am to you? Just a… a quick fuck?” 

“No!” Lee yelped, looking up at you and grabbing your arms gently as he shook his head again. “No, you’re more than that, you know that as well as I do, you mean fucking everything to me, but you know that Ford would never fucking step foot at our wedding because of us… you know that he thinks we’re just fucking around.” 

You nodded, biting your lip as you tried to accept his words, and tried to think that they were woven into gold that you couldn’t see unless you brought them into sunlight. “I’d still at least want to invite him, Lee, I mean, shit, had it not been for him, I never would’ve met you.” 

“And yet, he’d gladly give you up if it meant the survival of his fucking park,” he growled, letting his hands drop from your arms as he ran a hand through his hair and clicked his tongue. “Ford doesn’t give a fuck about us, he just wants to… to fucking control everything!” 

“That’s what you think,” you huffed, crossing your arms and looking down at the floor. “You don’t know him like I do.” 

Lee growled again, trying to hold his tongue, but like falling in a forest, he couldn’t help himself the same way that it was unknown if a sound was made or not. “Jesus fucking Christ, you talk about him like he’s your fucking father! I… how can you look at him and think that he’d even remotely be fucking interested in your happiness and not just fucking controlling everything?!” 

The words stung, as while you knew that he did have a point, Ford was still the only father figure you had, and while you knew that you and Ford disagreed on a lot, he was still family at the end of the day, and to hear Lee slander him so easily was starting to break you. 

“So what am I, then? Huh? What’s my interest, Lee? The same thing?” You asked, trying to mask the growing hurt. 

“You’re not like him,” he told you with a frown. “You’re… fuck, (y/n), you’re different, you don’t have to put up with his bullshit and the stupid fucking fatherly facade. You mean fucking everything to me, you know that, and you know I’d do anything for you, but saying you’re gonna invite him to our wedding is like saying you’re gonna ask Logan to be there, too!” 

“Logan?” You questioned, sniffling a little. “What’s Logan ever done?” 

“He’s…” Lee let out a grumble. “Come on, you know as well as I do that he’ll probably be high off of his fucking face and ruin the whole thing!” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” You howled, gawking at him as you scoffed. “Logan is my best fucking friend, Lee, he hasn’t done shit to you, and he’s been clean for almost a month, now! He’s getting better now he’s away from James, and you have no right to talk about him like that!” 

“You baby him!” Lee argued. “You treat him like he’s some fucking fragile china bowl that’ll shatter if you don’t constantly fucking coddle it!” 

“Oh, so now it’s all my fault and I’m a bad person for giving a shit about my best friend?” You defended, narrowing your eyes as you bitterly chuckled and looked down at the ground. “Y’know, Lee, I knew you could fight dirty, but this? This is a whole new level, even for you.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes, but when he soon regretted it. “(Y/N), wait-” Lee tried to grab your arm, but you brushed him off, and stormed past him, you refused to talk, even when packing an overnight bag in the bedroom, even when he chased you out to the front garden, begging and pleading for you to come back… but soon enough, as if everything had been a blur, you were gone, and Lee could do nothing except collapse onto his knees and sigh with defeat. “Fuck… I’m an idiot.” 

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

There were two places you could have gone after your fight with Lee; the first, was Ford’s, but you knew what he would say if you walked in crying, you knew exactly the same words and sentences he would repeat for the thousandth time; the second was Logan’s, and you knew that he would react one of two ways - either he would offer to curb stomp Lee, or would provide you with a shoulder to cry on, or a mix of both. 

You chose the latter, sniffling and pouting as you weakly knocked on the flat’s door; Logan answered, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers as he yawned and rubbed his eyes of tiredness before realising the utter state you were in and frowning, quickly ushering you in and leading you the kitchen area, sitting you up on the counter as he made two cups of coffee. 

“What happened?” He asked, handing you the steaming hot cup and looking you up and down, dark brown eyes flashing with concern and worry that he tried to hold back. 

You sniffled loudly, eyes still filled with tears as you tried to steady your own breaths and speak up, “me and Lee had a big fight… it was… shit, Logan, it was bad.” 

Logan nodded, taking a swig from his cup and sighing. “You wanna stay for a few days?” 

You nodded, staring into the cup and watching the brown liquid as if the answer to all of your problems was hidden inside of it. “If that’s okay with you?” 

“You know it is,” he assured, putting his cup on the counter before grabbing your bag and hauling it to his room; the two of you had shared a room a countless amount of times, and neither of you ever minded - after all, you were best friends, your closeness was nothing but platonic, your intimacy was nothing but pure friendship. He set up your things before returning to you and offering an old and worn handkerchief, an apologetic smile on his lips. "We're best friends, (y/n), and besides… you've kept me sober for a month, it's the least I can do." 

You smiled, taking the small scrap of fabric and blowing your nose loudly, almost cartoonishly so, before mumbling your gratitude and thanks. "You don’t owe me anything, like you said, we’re best friends, and shit… I just wanna see you happy, and even grow old with you.” 

Logan smiled back, a slight bitterness and sadness to it that struck a nerve or two and made you ponder if he was really as happy as he often let on, if his eyes were truly tainted with a melancholic blue hidden behind the brown. “We’d fuck that retirement home right up, they’d kick us out.” 

“Maybe, yeah,” you chuckled, nodding in agreement and trying to ignore his sadness whilst dodging your own. “Who knows, maybe Lee might even join us on that quest, huh?” 

“Maybe,” he agreed quietly. “So, what happened between you two? I’m guessing he fucked up big time.” 

You cleared your throat, looking down at his white laminate floor as you steadied your breath. “Just… a lot of shit was said, and I’m not sure if he meant it or not, but… I just-” 

“Can’t deal with it,” Logan guessed, finishing your sentence; he knew better than anyone else, he knew what your thought process was before you did half of the time, and he was sad to admit that, while he did adore the how healthy and perfect your relationship with Lee seemed, he knew that something was going to happen sooner or later. He never thought that when he joked about you and him never being able to catch a break or have a happy ending, that it would be true, and he wished you could have better, he wished you could have peace and happiness without having to worry about anyone or anything else. He cleared his throat, looking over to the speaker for a quick moment before shrugging. “Why don’t I put some music on, whatever the fuck you want, and we can chill the fuck out and forget about all this bullshit?” 

“That sounds good,” you agreed with a solemn nod. “How about some MIKA?” 

“You got it,” he winked, quickly hooking his phone up to the speaker and finding the playlist, welcoming the sound of ‘One Foot Boy’, he grabbed your hand, and tugged you from the counter, swinging you around to the beat as he sang along loudly, anything to make you smile. “My oh my I think my mind is gone, I'm left here wondering, was I crazy all along? What do I do? Nothing left but pray, gonna shoot somebody, help me drive this craziness away, I'm happy on my own!” 

You welcomed the prancing and the joviality, the childishness of not caring if anyone saw you and Logan moving around the kitchen, hardly dancing at all and more or less jumping to the upbeat song, singing along off-tune and without a key; only Logan could switch your moods so easily from melancholic and overthinking to thoughtless and joyful. He always had had a knack for it, even on the darkest days, he somehow managed to make you smile, and while people often asked why you didn’t just get together, you were content to be friends; in fact, the thought of something other than platonic with Logan made you feel sick - he was family, he was your chosen family, he was the one that was always there for you when you needed him most, and you were the one that always helped him out of a jam. The two of you were known for causing trouble together, but none of it was malicious, it was all in good fun, like a magpie accidentally knocking over a plant pot to get to a snail. 

When the song switched to ‘We Are Golden’, you threw your hands back and sang even louder. 

“We are not what you think we are! We are golden, we are golden! Teenage dreams in a teenage circus, running around like a clown on purpose - _who gives a damn about the family you come from?_ No giving up when you’re young and you want some!” You sang like wolves howling at the moon, not caring about carrying a tune or sounding good, just needing to raise your voices and replace any negativity with the breathless feeling that came with constantly singing; you did it often when you were both sad, or when either of you was angry, your basic instincts were to put some music on and sing along until you could no longer, be it because your voices gave out or your breath did, or because the neighbours told you to shut up. It never really mattered much to either of you. 

“I needed that,” you admitted when the song ended, looking much brighter and more like your usual self as you smiled. “I really fucking genuinely needed that.” 

“The power of music,” Logan added with a smirk. “Almost as powerful as fucking.” 

You scoffed, playfully pushing him as you let out a soft laugh. “You’re a nightmare, Delos, I swear, you’re like one of them animals that dies if it doesn’t fuck at least once a year.” 

“Can you blame me?” He asked, raising a brow. “I’m sure you and Lee get up to all kinds of kinky shit, really.” 

“My sex life isn’t your business,” you muttered, trying not to grin and admit to the dirty deed that you and Lee did behind closed doors. “Get me drunk, and then I’ll tell you.” 

Grinning with a slight glint of curiosity in his eyes, Logan nodded, grabbing a packet of cigarettes from a shelf inside the cupboard and throwing them at you before heading to the fridge; he pulled out an old bottle of Grant’s whisky and placed it on the counter, he got two large glasses before grabbing some Red Bull and pouring them all into one - the coffee from earlier having been long forgotten and abandoned. He handed you your glass with a wicked smile and a slight tilt of his head. “How drunk do you wanna get?” 

“Drunk enough to tell you about my sex life, apparently,” you joked, clinking your glass against his before racing to see who could finish their glass first; it was no surprise that Logan won, refilling the glasses with a chuckle. “You really don’t skimp when it comes to pouring this shit, do you?” 

“Nothing but the best for you,” he teased, knocking back a swig and grabbing the packet of cigarettes; he lit two up, and passed one to you, taking a drag from the one he kept for himself. “Does he like being called Daddy? Master?” 

“Daddy,” you admitted, biting your lip. “And it was me that started it.” 

“Oh, really?” He seemed to perk up a little at that, licking his lips. “I never would’ve thought you’d be into something like that.” 

“You thought wrong,” you laughed. “It’s, like, a thing between us - I call him Daddy, he calls me… a certain pet name of which I will not utter to you because you’ll never fucking let me live it down.” 

“You’re probably right,” Logan agreed, laughing along. “But, to be fair, who doesn’t like being called Daddy? Even I fucking love it!” 

“I did not wanna know that, oh my God!” You howled, throwing your head back and closing your eyes. 

“Oh, please,” he rolled his eyes with a playful scoff. “Like you’re any better.” 

“Do you really wanna play this game, Delos?” 

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

You had abandoned your phone on the first night staying with Logan, as it no longer seemed to bother you as you spent most of the days drinking and laughing, dancing around to various songs and singing so loudly that the neighbours knocked on the door not once, not twice, but three times within the space of three days; neither of you cared, and turned it into yet another inside joke that you could banter around with and no one would understand. Leaving your phone was a disaster, though, as Lee had tried multiple times to contact you and to make sure that you were safe and that you were being looked after, you had no idea how much he was actually worrying about you and your safety above all else - he didn’t mind you needing a break and being away, the same as he didn’t care where you were or who you were with, only that you were safe and sound; but he was reassured when Logan put it a few videos on his Instagram story of you and him dancing in the living room to MIKA and Elton John songs, looking as lively and as happy as could be. It made Lee relieved, to say the least, to know that you were with someone you trusted, and someone he trusted to be able to keep you safe, to know that you weren’t somewhere you could get hurt; but he knew he had made a big mistake by fighting with you, he knew that he was in the wrong for saying the things he did and losing his temper so badly over something that you could have talked about civilly, instead, and he knew that he had to apologise if he didn’t want to lose you, he knew he had to apologise and admit that he was wrong. 

In the meantime, though, you were baking with Logan in the kitchen, nothing fancy, just a basic battenburg pudding; you were surprised to find out that he had learned to bake during his sobriety, but at the same time, Logan had always had quite the streak of chef genius, as he always managed to cook something when he was high and had the munchies like a thorn in the side. Needless to say, though, that baking was quite chaotic - filled with singing and dancing and ingredients getting tossed at each other over teasing comments. Your clothes were covered in white patches of flour, and he could swear he felt sugar rolling down his shirt against his chest. 

“If you’re not fucking careful, I’ll become the naked chef,” Logan threatened playfully as he tossed some icing sugar at you, the powder splattering over the hoodie you had borrowed from him. 

“Dickhead!” You chuckled, retaliating by flicking some jam in his face, trying to hold back a laugh when it stuck to his hair and trickled down his face like a sticky goo. 

“You’re gonna pay for that,” he growled, shaking his head and splattering some marzipan in your hair, rubbing it into the strands with a triumphant laugh. “How does that feel, huh?” 

You groaned in jovial disgust, ruffling and combing through your hair to get it all out before shaking your head and pursing your lips to try and stop yourself from laughing. “I’m gonna shave one of your eyebrows off while you sleep, Delos.” 

“And I’ll just pull you into bed with me,” he grinned before standing behind you and helping you to get all of the marzipan out, right as ‘SOS’ by ABBA started to play over the speakers. “Where are those happy days? They seem so hard to find, I try to reach for you but you have closed your mind. Whatever happened to our love? I wish I understood, it used to be so nice, it used to be so good.”

“So when you're near me, darling can't you hear me, S.O.S.! The love you gave me, nothing else can save me, S.O.S.!” You sang back loudly, finding a perfect unison with him to sing along.

“When you're gone, how can I even try to go on? When you're gone, though I try, how can I carry on?” He sang with you, in sync with each other but you had to admit that neither of you were exactly pitch perfect; so taken in by the song and distracted, you both abandoned the pudding in progress, choosing instead to play around as you sang, picking up various objects to sing into as you tried to hold back the laughter and stop yourselves from getting too rowdy - you didn’t want the neighbours knocking again. 

“Y’know, I’m pretty sure this is why everyone says we need adult supervision,” you joked, pointing between yourself and your best friend with a grin. 

Logan nodded, shrugging and wiping his hand down his face, licking off the jam that clung onto his palm. “Yeah, but who the fuck ever wants to grow up?” 

“Very true,” you agreed. “But… I do, I guess? I mean, I’ve thought about marrying Lee and, y’know, settling down.” 

“Settling down?” Logan gawked, grabbing your ear and speaking directly into it. “Where’s my best friend? What have you done with my fucking (y/n)?” 

“Shove off!” You laughed, pushing him away and rolling your eyes. “C’mon, you’ve never thought about marriage? About marrying someone and settling down, for good?” 

He shook his head, shrugging and leaning coolly against the counter. “Fuck no! Do I look like fucking Billy? We’re still young, (y/n), we have all the time in the fucking world to get drunk and to have sex and to have some fucking fun before we’re forced to give our lives to capitalism.” 

You had to admit, he did have a point, but all the same, you couldn’t fully agree. “Yeah, okay, playboy - I’ll have you know that me and Lee have tonnes of fun.” 

“Kinky sex doesn’t count as fun,” he teased, pretending to be hurt when you weakly punched him in the arm. “I’m joking! We both know that kinky sex makes up most of the fucking fun in life.” 

“You’re disgusting,” you laughed, shaking your head fondly. “Seriously, though, have you never once considered giving up the playboy bachelor thing, at all?” 

“Oh, I’ve considered it,” he nodded, running a hand through his hair and wincing and grimacing a little at how sticky it was from the jam. “But fuck off would I ever do it… I don’t wanna settle down. I like my sex how I hate to dress - casual.” 

“Okay, fair enough,” you wiped your forehead, shaking your head when you felt flour on your skin. “Say me and Lee did get married, though… you’d be the ringbearer, right?” 

Logan agreed with a soft chuckle. “I wanna be the flower girl, too.” 

“And you can be that,” you agreed without even a second of hesitation before pausing and sighing. “Do you think I overreacted? To mine and Lee’s fight, I mean, do you think I was… I dunno… too impulsive?” 

“Not really,” Logan shook his head, switching to stand beside you, his arm coming to rest across your shoulders as he sighed. “If whatever the fuck he said upset you, then they upset you, and you shouldn’t be thinking all this shit about how you overreacted and were impulsive. You needed to get away, and you did, and I think you did the right fucking thing.” 

“I ran into the arms of my favourite dumbass,” you tittered sadly. “I do miss him, y’know, but… fuck, what if the next time I see him, all we do is squabble and fight again?” 

Logan frowned, thinking it over for a moment before shrugging and smiling down at you fondly, he knew what you were thinking, he knew how your heart and your head were fighting over what to do, and he wanted to help, any way he could. 

“It could happen, sure, but have you ever had angry sex? It’s fucking amazing, no lie.” 

“Logan,” you grumbled, wiping your temple and grumbling. “Seriously.” 

“Fine,” he huffed, rolling his eyes. “Listen, there’s a chance that, yeah, you might fight again, but there’s also a chance that you could fix things - I know how you and Lee are, I’ve never fucking seen anyone more in love, and I’ve seen most Disney films, no one’s got that shit worse than you two. It’s like, I dunno, it’s like you were made for each other or some bullshit. You’ll fix it. But the real question is, are you ready to see him?” 

“No,” you admitted quietly. “No, not until I get myself together and figure out what to say, ‘cause, fuck, he said some shit, but I did, too, and I know he’s probably worried sick about me and running himself ragged trying to figure out where I’ve gone and whether or not I’m safe… I should probably figure out how the fuck to apologise for all of this.” 

“And you can,” Logan assured, patting your back. “We’ve got all the time in the fucking world - I’m sure your Prince Charming will understand if it takes you a day or two more, Hell, I’m sure he’ll get it if it takes you a fucking moonth longer, (y/n), your Englishman isn’t going anywhere.” 

You nodded, smiling again as ‘Take on Me’ by a-ha filtered in through the silence. 

“So needless to say of odds and ends, but I'll be stumbling away, slowly learning that life is OK. Say after me: it's no better to be safe than sorry."

You cleared your throat, looking at Logan before hugging him tightly and letting out a quiet sniffle, squeezing him a little bit as you buried your head against his chest and let out a burdened sigh. 

“You’re my best goddamn friend, Logan, I’d be a mess without you.” 

“I know,” he hummed. “And, for the record, I’d probably be dead without you.” 

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

You were in the bedroom getting changed into your pyjamas after a long night of fooling around and making a mess with Logan, coming through your hair to get out any debris, when you pulled out one of Lee’s jumpers; it still smelled like him, and when you buried your face into the soft navy fabric, you couldn’t help but to stifle a sob. You missed him, and you wanted nothing more than to apologise for him, to make up for the mistakes that had been made and extinguish the fires that had been ignited by dropping a match into bad blood, you yearned to be in his arms again as he told you all about his new project, another new narrative he was tasked with writing, you ached to hear his voice, it pained you to think that he was at home, all on his own, your side of the bed cold and empty. You wanted to be back with him, but you still had yet to find the right things to say to your wonderful writer, you couldn’t just go home with a half-assed apology that was thoughtless, you wanted it to be perfect and to be as honest and sincere as it could be. You knew you had messed up and made awful mistakes and said worse things, which was why you were absolutely determined for your apology to be everything he deserved and more. 

When you heard a knock at the door, you thought nothing of it, just a neighbour complaining again, and you sat on the edge of the bed with the jumper, cuddled into it and closing your eyes tightly, unaware that Logan was stood outside in the hall, right in front of the door, with his arms folded, shaking his head and clenching his jaw. 

“Get fucked, Sizemore,” he spat almost bitterly. “It ain’t happening.” 

Lee sighed heavily, running a hand through his ragged and messy hair. “Please, Logan, come on.” 

Logan shook his head again, tutting. “No. (Y/N) isn’t ready to see you, yet.” 

“My partner,” Lee growled. “Let me fucking see my partner.” 

“My best friend,” Logan retorted. “You can fuck off. Come back when (y/n)’s actually ready to fucking see you.” 

“Come on, Logan,” Lee whined, frowning, even Logan could see he had been visibly crying. “It won’t fucking take five minutes. I just need to know that (y/n)’s alright, for fuck’s sake.” 

“Trust me,” Logan smiled. “(Y/N) is absolutely fine. We’ve talked about the fight you two had, and said that you can come in - when (y/n)’s ready to see you.” 

“Logan,” Lee was growing desperate, impatient. “I swear to fucking God if you don’t let me see my partner, the person I plan on fucking marrying-” 

“Lee,” Logan snarled. “Fuck off. Listen, man, I like you, I really do, you’re great, and I love the fact that you and (y/n) are happy as pigs in shit together, but I can’t let you inside unless if I’m told that my best fucking friend is ready to see you. I’m sorry.” 

“You’re a dickhead,” Lee sighed, shaking his head and turning around; he couldn’t go home, not without you, he didn’t want another sleepless night without you, he didn’t want another sleepless night thinking about all the bad things he had said and how awfully he had acted. He was supposed to love you, to cherish and treasure you and treat you like royalty - but he had messed up and lost his temper, and God knew how much you probably hated him for it. Poor Lee wasn’t sure what to do as he trudged over to the elevator, pressing the button and wiping the fresh tears from his blurry eyes when it arrived and opened; he pressed the button for the ground floor, clearing his throat and doing his best to put on a brave face for the outside world. He wandered around the car park for a while, kicking a little pebble and debating what to do. 

Which was when he saw it. 

The long black plastic drain pipe, leading right up to the bedroom window of Logan’s flat. 

It was risky, and without a doubt, Lee was far from experienced at such a thing, but nevertheless, he was determined to see you, and grabbed onto it, clumsily finding his footing before taking the first few steps, clinging onto the pipe for dear life as he thought he was going to fall the few feet he climbed up. 

He could feel his hands getting dirty and his shoes slipping, threatening to drop him, as he slowly and clumsily made his way up, unsure of if he was going to fall at any moment, unsure of if he was even going to be able to make it all the way up to that seemingly shining window. 

He could hear music, loud music, a song that he recognised and that you and Logan always danced to at the clubs and pubs you visited - ‘Chelsea Dagger’ by The Fratellis. He found himself humming along as he continued to creep up the pipe, and when he finally reached the window, he let out a sigh of relief, clinging onto the ledge for dear life before hoisting himself up - and falling through. 

“Lee!” You yelped, immediately helping him up, dropping the jumper in the process as you looked him up and down. “Did you shimmy up the fucking drain pipe? Are you alright? You’re not hurt, are you?” 

“I’m fine, love,” Lee assured, but his instincts took over the very second he met your eyes, and he swallowed thickly, shaking his head. “I’m so fucking sorry for all the things I said, I’m so sorry, I never should’ve said half of that shit, and I know I lost my temper, and I can’t fucking apologise enough for that, I know I fucked up massively this time, but I never meant for any of this to happen, you don't deserve this... I'm sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” you told him, pressing your forehead against his and cupping his cheeks. “I fucked up, too, and I said some awful shit to you, and I know I can probably never make it up to you, and I’m so sorry, Lee, I’m so fucking sorry.” 

When he caught onto the fact you were crying, Lee removed your hands from his face, wrapping your arms around his waist as he pulled you close, his hands on your lower back and between your shoulder blades as he held you close, his lips against your forehead as he hummed lowly and closed his eyes tightly, letting out a soft sigh as he simply held you; neither of you could bring yourselves to speak again, reveling in the feeling of being in each other’s arms and being reunited and together again after being apart. 

“I can’t believe you shimmied up a drain pipe…” you chuckled hoarsely after a long period of silence, not daring to pull out of his embrace. 

Lee shrugged, smiling a little as he rubbed your back soothingly, clearing his throat. “If I had a penny for every time I thought I was gonna fall, we’d be fucking millionaires.” 

His comment made you laugh a little as you sniffled and snuggled further into him, unable to get enough of his touch, of his embrace and the feeling of having his body against your own. 

“I missed you,” you whispered. “Logan knows all about our sex life, now, though.” 

Pulling back in order to look into your eyes, Lee gave you a quizzical smirk as he raised a brow. “How does Logan know all about our sex life?” 

“I may have gotten drunk and told him,” you tittered. “He was gonna find out sooner or later, just… be glad he found out while you weren’t around.” 

Lee rolled his eyes, a certain fondness laced into the cobalt as he smiled, kissing your forehead again as he let out a quiet hum. “He’s a big boy, I’m sure we don’t need to explain anything to him, anyway.” 

“I’m pretty sure, if anything, he thinks we’re vanilla,” you joked, looking up at him and smiling brightly. “Fuck, I missed you.” 

“I missed you, too,” Lee said softly, daring to peck your lips oh so sweetly. “Listen, if you wanna invite Ford to our wedding, and have Logan be a part of it, then that’s fine by me - it’s as much your day as mine, and I genuinely couldn’t give a fuck who you want there. As long as it’s James Delos.” 

“James Delos isn’t allowed to touch our wedding with a ninety-foot pole, don’t worry,” you chuckled. “But, anyways, this is all hypothetical, right? I mean, we’re not getting married any time soon, are we?” 

“That depends,” Lee mused, clicking his tongue. “Do you wanna marry me?” 

“My answer to that depends on your answer,” you grinned. “Lee Sizemore, would you marry me?” 

“Fuck yeah, I would!” He beamed, nodding eagerly. “But only if you wanna marry me.” 

“Nothing,” you kissed him between words, “would. Make. Me. Fucking. Happier.” 

“(Y/N) Sizemore,” Lee hummed, raising his eyebrows with a slight smirk. “It’s got a nice ring to it.” 

“Lee (Y/L/N),” you mimicked. “I think that’s got a nicer ring, to be fair.” 

Lee was about to open his mouth and say something, when from a distant part of the flat, Logan shouted, loud and clear and probably with enough projection that the neighbours were bound to hear it. 

“Would you two shut the fuck up and either fuck, get married, or both?” 

Laughing, you and Lee collapsed into one another, holding each other tight and secure, never wanting to let go again, not this time, not ever, not if you could help it. 

“How about I stay the night?” Lee asked quietly. “And then we’ll go home tomorrow?” 

“You’ll have to ask Logan,” you pointed out. “But I’m sure he’ll say yes.” 

“If it gets you two to shut the fuck up, then I’m all for it! Just don’t stain my fucking bedsheets! Love you!” 

“I love you,” Lee whispered, kissing you sweetly and softly. 

“I love you, too.” You murmured against his lips before going in for another kiss. 


End file.
